


Confessissumam

by Noir_Dix



Series: Dix's Ghost Stories [3]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: (It's still not real), Copia cassock priest-kink, F/M, Fantasy, Inappropriate use of church facilities, Other, Prop "horror", non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-17 15:07:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17562791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noir_Dix/pseuds/Noir_Dix
Summary: I've been threatening to write a full-blown smut fest w/ Copia in his cassock for ages. It started as Mary, & Cardi eventually came around, demanding his red dress back.This throws off the events of the Xmas story a bit, unfortunately.And, I went into a more detailed version of the head/trophy episode... But, it's still an Alice Cooper-style prop. I haven't decided if Papa's in exile, or, down in the dungeon.





	1. The Angel of Death

Everyone in the church had been called to the assembly. The Cardinal waited just outside the doors to the sanctuary. Sister Imperator spoke presently, announcing his "promotion". Old Nihil sat to the side, looking like warmed-over death, as usual.

Copia was antsy. He smoothed down his brilliant red cassock for what seemed like the hundredth time. He fiddled with his rhinestone grucifix.

Unable to stop himself, he peeked in the fancy chest yet again.

"S'alright? S'alright." he mimicked the old schtick, "S'okay? S'okay."

The prop inside was hauntingly realistic. The layer of fake blood at the bottom was his own contribution.

"...Cardinal Copia."

That was his cue. He tucked the chest under one arm & pushed the doors open.

The assembly as a whole turned to face him, registering a vague feeling of disbelief. He stood as tall as was possible, & strode confidently to the front of the room.

He deposited the chest in an empty chair, & his mother gave him a small, conspirational smile as she stepped away from the lectern.

He felt the utter fool as he began to speak. The assembly either disliked him, or, didn't care about him one way or the other.

He tried the old trick of finding something  to focus on. Left side, center of a central pew...

His mismatched gaze landed on a petite blonde, & he very nearly lost his train of thought.

She met his eyes directly, as always. Her habit fit her badly, leading him to surmise that she'd pilfered it from somewhere.

"...And so I humbly accept the mission to spread our message far & wide-"

The assembly groaned collectively. They only knew the bookish scholar that haunted the library in a dusty black cassock. He usually had half a cup of lukewarm, (spiked) tea... & carried a hat, (with a rat in it).

And that was only when he couldn't escape whatever church the clergy had managed to take over.

Time for the flourish.

He opened the chest. The curiosity behind him was a palpable thing.

He grabbed the thing by its jet-black "hair" & hoisted it out of the box. The "blood" seemed to pour from its severed neck.

Several of the women began keening; wailing.

"Paapaa-"

Which made it that much easier for him to make a show of licking the "blood" from his leather glove.

A few of the men actually vomited in the aisles.

Imperator frowned at that.

He put the prop back in the chest with a loud 'thunk', & turned a look of pure malevolence upon the assembly.

He went back to the lectern, gripping the edge & purposely leaving bloody fingemarks.

"The Pope is dead." he announced with morbid glee. "Long live your Cardinal."

He sought his blondie back out in the crowd. She looked somewhat aghast, but, more disappointed than anything.

The congregation had begun a mass exodus, apparently not even wanting to be in the same room with him at that point.

He vaguely registered his mother calling maintenance, as he headed for one of the side doors.


	2. The Haunted Tabernacle... (or, Cassock Tent)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jehannaford & Ghuleh_Elf are the seesters in the sanctuary...  
> Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. ;)

She remained where she was, watching as he left the room. A Sister of Sin sat down next to her.

It was the Trickster from the library. Another Sister sat on her other side... this was Keebie, who also worked in the library. They were two of the very, very few that had some semblance of knowledge as to who & what she really was.

"Hey, Dix." Keebie said, & they did a little fist-bump.

"Why?" Trickster blurted. "Why did he do it?"

She really was not in the mood for this. How could she explain the Cardinal's antics, when she had no idea what he was up to, herself?

She turned to the devastated woman, & didn't know what to say. She had known him for over two centuries. He could dance on the killing floor effortlessly & without remorse.

The congregation thought he was a harmless buffoon.

He came back out into the sanctuary. He had removed his biretta, & was smoothing down his chestnut hair.

The front of his cassock looked... off.

Well, she knew what he had _just_ been up to, at least.

He came to stand at the end of the pew, hands clasped before him.

Uh-huh.

She stood, & Trickster grabbed her arm fiercely, yanking her back down.

"Are you insane? He's a monster!"

Keebie cleared her throat awkwardly.

"I think she'll be fine." she offered.

Maybe. She figured she wasn't in any _immediate_ danger, at least.

"Hello, my darling." he greeted her quietly. "What is this get-up? Is it Trick or Treat?"

He was trying to hide the small tent in his cassock behind his hands.

"And what are you? Late for the ball?" she asked, snarkily.

She loved the red, though. She'd been fidgeting in a very un-ladylike way, until he'd started waving his gruesome trophy around.

"What have you done, now?"

She caught a shadow of doubt. It only lasted an instant.

"I have taken my rightful place." he said, lacking conviction.

She wondered if this was the mantra he'd conceived of to convince himself.

She put a hand to the side of his face, & he leaned into her touch like a love-starved tomcat.

"Do you need confession, sister?" he asked, looking more than a little desperate.

"Do you?"

He took her hand, & all but dragged her over to the grand old confessional. He scanned the room quickly, finding only maintenance workers & the Sisters, still sitting in the pew. He hated to leave the chest unattended... but, fuck all.

He knew what he needed, & he needed her _now._


	3. The One Desacralizer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the beginning of the smut, but, I've gotten bogged down in Copia's eccentricities...

He wrenched the door open to the priest's chamber, & gently shoved her inside.

"GodDAMNit, Cardi!" she exclaimed, whirling in the small space to face him.

"Shh, shh, shh..." he embraced her, kissing her simply at first, before pushing his tongue past her lips.

He was going to an extraordinary effort not to maul her like a slavering lunatic.

She stood ramrod straight for all of a few moments, before finally wrapping her arms around his neck & returning his kisses.

She gasped when he kneed her legs slightly apart, & pressed his erection against her.

"I've missed you so much..." he growled, breath tickling her ear.

"You don't say." she pulled back to look at him. "Where have you been?"

He tried to come up with a suitable answer. She had found some little gold bobby-pins, to help hold her wimple in place.

For some reason, they fascinated him.

"How many?" he asked, carefully pulling one loose & showing it to her.

She rolled her eyes.

"Four."

"Ah."

Both sets were crossed in x's, just over her ears. He removed them, linked them together, & flipped the wimple off.

He had absolutely no use for the sisters' habits, & truly hated the head coverings.

He buried his nose in her hair; it smelled of pomegranates & mangos.

"How long have you been traipsing around like this?" he muttered.

"Long enough."

"I'm sorry. I have no excuse." he said, in regard to her earlier question.

"Hmm. I'm not surprised." she was more than a little peeved at him.

He refused to argue with her.

"How does-?" he gestured to the collar of her dress. "You remind me of a penguin... It doesn't even fit well."

"I bet you say that to all the girls." she quipped, before turning. "It's just a zipper, with some hooks & eyes at the top."

"Hmm... You know I like you best in nothing at all." he said, unfastening her.

The thing dropped away easily, as it fit loosely to begin with.

"Although this... This is nice."

She had surprised him.

She wore dark emerald green underwear. The bra was just a satin & lace underwire, & the panties were cotton bikinis... but, they matched well. And, the color went with her alabaster skin.

She also had on black, thigh-high stockings, which seemed to enthrall him.

Thank Satan he didn't think to ask how she'd gotten them.

His hand went absently to the front of his gown, which had a small damp spot.

"Take off the gloves." she said, leaning against the wood of the back wall.

"I thought you liked-" he was fondling himself idly. It looked like he had a small cucumber under a tablecloth. It was absurd.

"I do like, but, I want to feel your hands on me."

She didn't have to tell him twice.

He slid the thin straps of her bra down, then peeled the cups down, but left the thing in place. The wires pushed everything up & out, like her tits were on a platter.

'...nothing at all.' he'd said.

Right.

She seemed to remember his perverse delight in removing her bustles, unhooking her boots, & unlacing her stays.

Not to mention that he'd utterly demolish her hair, if she attempted to style it.

She'd gotten a sleek bob, back in the roaring 20's. He wouldn't speak to her for three days.

He played with her as she reminisced. He was voraciously tonguing a nipple when she slid a hand between her legs.

"Fuck, I wish the light was better." he growled.

He backed against the door of the chamber. She hesitated, hand outside of her panties.

"Don't stop." he was watching her like she was the best show going.

She considered.


	4. Thy Kingdom Come (or,You never want this to be over...)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Behold: smut. There's no excuse for this, & I am not sorry.

"No." she said, finally. "That isn't any better than I've been doing, myself ."

He smirked.

"Have you been working yourself into this state on a regular basis?"

Damn him.

With a sigh, she slid off the underwear, adding them to the small pile of discarded clothes. Her hand hovered at the top of one stocking, &-

"No!" he actually stepped forward. "Leave those."

She pressed herself back against the wood paneling, & started with her hands at her shoulders, before dropping to her breasts. She unsnapped the front of her bra, & flicked it in the general direction of the clothes pile. She pressed them together, giving herself the closest thing she got to cleavage, & he grunted appreciatively.

She knew where his head was at.

 _Both_ of them.

"What are you wearing under that gown?" she asked.

"What do you think?"

"I think for sure that you went & took your pants off."

"Baby, I took it _all_ off." he told her, grabbing the hem & pulling it up past his waist.

He wore his absurd black shoes with the buckles, & some socks with garters (featuring voluptuous nude ladies) that  she had given him in Victorian times.

And, nothing else.

His dick stood at complete attention, pointing straight out.

"Want to put your cock here?" she asked sweetly, gesturing between her breasts.

He chewed at his bottom lip; head oozing niveous pre-cum.

"Fuck, yes."

She began to drop to her knees, but, he held her up.

He'd moved quick. He sort of draped his skirt over one arm, before grasping himself in his other hand & trying to rub in the sticky stuff the best  he could. He ended up thumbing his still oozing slit & shivering. He leaned in so close to her ear that she could feel the tickle of his little mustache.

"Yes, I want to put my cock there." he growled. "I also want it in your mouth. I'd also like it halfway up your tight, white ass... But, more than anything, I want it balls-deep in your sweet, pink pussy."

She moaned, wanting him more than she'd wanted anything in a good while.

"Now, I'm going back against the door. I'm going to get down on my knees & try not to squirt cum on the ceiling while I watch you play with yourself."

He could probably do it, too... Except that there was was no actual ceiling here. That was the only reason there was any light at all.

And, he was already on his knees. Miffed, she took the couple of steps to stand right beside him.

He turned, & his nose was basically between her legs.

He pressed a kiss against the soft patch of dark blond hair.

"Begin."

She placed her feet somewhat shoulder-width apart. She still wore her shoes, as well... A shiny black pair of combat boots.

He slid a hand up her stockinged calf slowly, pausing to squeeze her leg all the way up.

She placed her fingers against his bottom lip. He sucked them, getting them sloppy wet.

With a sigh, she reached & pressed against her swollen flesh.

"Yesss. So pink... So fucking pretty."

He watched her avidly.

"Put your fingers inside."

Ah, the romance. She hesitated. Her nails had gotten a bit long.

"Please?" he asked, giving her sad eyes.

She slid her hand back, everything was soaking wet, & she slowly started with her middle finger.

He continued to watch, spellbound.

He spread the front of her pussy with his thumbs & located the nub of her clit. He licked & sucked at the aggravated bit until she was almost too far gone.

Something about him looking up at her...

"Ready to come, my pet?"

Words failed her. Hell, thought in general failed her.

He stopped, stood up, draped his cassock back over his arm, & pushed her back against the back of the chamber.

He held his cock & slowly rubbed it back & forth from her clit to her slit.

"Is _this_ what you want?"

"YES." she almost wept.

He slid into her; torturously slow. Eventually, he was completely sheathed & just stood there, staring.

She was very nearly out of her head; he had literally stopped right on the verge of her climax.

" _I'm going to destroy you._ "

'And make me want it again...' she thought.

She squeaked as he grabbed her legs up, hoisting her off the floor as he fucked her hard into the wood paneling.

He gave no quarter, thrusting in & out of her completely, balls slapping against her.

He watched her intently, & she stared right back. The black makeup was basically gone from his upper lip.

He continued to pound away at her, still managing to hold her up just off of the floor.

Soon she was clenching her hands in the short cape at his shoulders... Before sliding down the sides of his narrow torso, to end up gripping his lush, translucent ass.

He wanted more light, she wished for one of his full-length Venetian mirrors.

The Cardinal could speak several languages. When he was close, he had a tendency to start muttering a bastardized mix of all of them. (It was always complimentary... usually consisting of some combination of the words yes, fuck, soft, wet, tight, God, Satan, & etc.)

She was trying to decipher his latest... (old church Latin, Italian, French, was that... Swedish?) maintaining his eerie lock-stare, & riding out the aftershocks of her own orgasm when unholy inspiration hit her.

She leaned in to breathe in one of his very red ears,

"Come inside me... _Your Eminence_."

He made an odd, strangled sound before losing any semblance of rhythm or grace.

He buried his head in her shoulder, & she _felt_ him come completely undone. It triggered another for her, & she actually blacked out for a couple of seconds.

"Oh, sweet Jesus." she eventually panted .

He shook with silent laughter.

"I can assure you that _that_ had  nothing to do with Jesus."

He made a little upside-down sign of the cross.

"In the name of Satan."


	5. Thy Will Be Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attempt to tie things up.

He nuzzled her nose, wrapping his arms around her & staying inside her, for the moment.

They were both giggling breathlessly.

"I'm sorry. That was quite, uhhh messy." he mumbled, slightly embarrassed.

Not to mention, there was a _lot_ of it, she thought.

"I suppose I sort of asked for it." she said instead.

"Heh, heh, heh..."

There was a sudden tapping at the side of the confessional.

"Cardinal Copia? Cardinal Copia-"

It was Imperator.

They looked at the door anxiously. There were other muffled voices outside.

"Honestly, sister... No one's even been in the confessionals, since we took this church. The doors are swollen shut."

A muffled response.

"I do wish that he hadn't left the chest, though. I swear, if he had a brain, he'd be dangerous."

He rolled his eyes. She sniggered.

He stepped back, slowly pulling out & letting his skirt drop.

"Come back with me."

She had no clothes to arrange, & felt silly, standing there in her stockings & combat boots.

He was giving her _big_ sad panda eyes, now.

"You had only to ask." she sighed.

He blinked before pulling her back into his arms, then proceeding to kiss her. It ran the whole gamut.

"I'm sorry, my love." he said, when he finally came up for air. "I've just been so-"

~~Scared.~~

"Busy."

She looked at him. This impossible little man, who had died at least twice, (that she knew of)... Had killed more than a few times... Drank blood... Fucked endlessly, (& happily)... & periodically went off on some cockamamie mission for his mother.

She had belonged to him ever since he had happened upon her, pilloried outside of her backward little town's even more backward little church.

"I know you don't care for the habit... but, could you bundle up my other things?"

His gaze dropped back down to her stockings.

"Sì, sì... I would be _glad_ to."

Minutes later, he pulled the door open mere inches, scanning the sanctuary. He had bundled her undergarments, & his gloves, up in the stolen black veil. He had to tote her boots on their own.

It was his turn to feel foolish, as they were obviously ladies' shoes... The whole clergy was aware he had big feet. He wore absurdly elongated shoes, with lifts.

But, that was beside the point.

He squared his shoulders, eliciting a little movement from under the folds of his pellegrina. He needed to get back to that side room, to get his own clothes; frantically stashed so hopefully no one else would find out that he was nude under the cassock.

Ah, well. She had seemed to enjoy it, at least... He saw this becoming a thing. Maybe she'd let him tie her up with his sash.

Maybe she'd tie _him_ up with the sash. It had been a while, & that had been with the black one.

His cock gave a little twitch, & he willed it to behave.

Out of left field, the wailing sister from earlier accosted him.

Oh, he so did not need this. His dick was half-hard, he was naked under his flaming red vestments, toting ladies' boots, with a white rat clinging desperately under his shoulder cape.

"Seester." he said, ridiculous accent coming to the fore, on top of everything else.

Her little cohort came up beside her.

"My gawd, you smell like an early American whorehouse." the first sister said, scrunching her nose a bit.

He tried his best for "imposing".

"Really, ladies?" he looked between both of them. "Do either of you frequent 'early American whorehouses'?"

They looked at each other uncomfortably.

He smiled at them amicably, before snarling,

"Because I have. I can assure you, it's an entirely different aromatic experience."

He made a little show of sniffing his fingers.

And then licking them.

The one sister glared at him; miserable, angry, & defiant all at the same time.

He felt as though she were giving him the evil eye.

_As if._

"What did you do to my friend?"

Oh, he _burned_ to tell her... in Technicolor detail.

He began to hear muffled chittering. He'd been ignoring the odd little movements under his cape.

With a sigh, he quit shuffling things between his hands, setting them in a nearby pew. He reached under the pellegrina, & she scrambled into his hand, her tiny pink feet tickling him awfully.

The two sisters were suddenly terribly uncomfortable, & he realized that they didn't know quite what to make of his bare hands.

The wailing sister cleared her throat.

"Why is she a rat, again?"

"Want to sit on my shoulder? Okey-dokey, then." he cooed, rubbing between her ears. He set her right next to his collar before answering.

"She's in stealth mode." he snorted.

Nothing.

"I was trying to fuck her six ways from Sunday, while y'all were out here, sniffing around with my muh-"

She nipped at his neck, but, he'd already caught himself.

"Imperator. What on earth were you trying to prove?"

"Why did you kill my Terzo?!" she cried, voice echoing in the empty sanctuary.

He looked at the other woman as if she had lost her mind.

"Bold of you to assume that I killed them..."

"Them?" the second sister whispered.

Dix squeaked.

He'd said too much.

"Not the Second..."

"Seesters-" damn it all, slipping into the accent again, "Rest assured that all will be revealed..."

You could have heard a pin drop.

"Eventually."

Or, so "The Director" had said.

Or, so his mother had said he had said.

He picked up his parcels & stomped off, intent on doing what he'd set out to, in the first place.

Once he got his pants back on, so his dick wasn't flapping in the breeze, he'd go out & get that godforsaken chest. Then, he'd take it, his woman, & her drawers back to "his" godforsaken master suite, lock the doors, & pull out the three bottles of cognac that he'd stashed recently.

He was thirsty. In more ways than one. 

FIN


End file.
